Black Coffee
by TheWhoufflePrincess
Summary: Cosmic Delights is a quaint and lovely little coffee shop just down the street. The owner, John, makes the orders and Amy takes them. One regular customer that John only knows as Clara always orders a cup of black coffee, yet John watches her grimace with every sip. He can't help but stare and an empty coffee shop with just the two of them gives him the oppertunity to ask, "Why?"


The brunette in a skirt, with the lovely name of Clara, was a regular in John's coffee shop, Cosmic Delights. Now, regulars came and went without an issue and John hardly batted an eyelash at any of them, yet, Clara was different. She always asked for a cup of black coffee, yet she never seemed to enjoy it, John noticed. As he made drinks for the paying patrons, he'd always watch her converse with Amy, his co-worker and only subordinate, then order a cup of black coffee.

She always seemed so tired, forcing herself awake to speak coherent sentences to Amy. She'd wait patiently nearby and when John handed the cup to her, she'd smile softly and stride to a table in the back. She'd then wrap her scarf around her neck tighter and take a sip of the black coffee.

The way her face would scrunch up and she'd shudder, before taking more sips was always amusing. Her face contorted in so many ways John didn't even think were possible, but at least she ordered the smallest size. Sometimes she had a book that would cover her facial expressions and other times, her olive round face was clear as day. He loved watching her reactions, even messing up a drink once or twice over his constant looks towards the short brunette.

Amy would always tease him about his staring, but he'd never have any of it. His glances were just him being concerned about the quality of his coffee! That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. Just collecting information about how to further improve the drink.

But how do you even improve black coffee? John pondered that question every time he watched her leave his cafe silently. She took hers strong, without any cream nor sugar. It was like she was just asking for a bitter drink. John tried not to think too much of it, but he couldn't help it.

 _Why black coffee? Why drink it if you don't enjoy it? Why do you look so tired all the time? Why do you look absolutely adorable while drinking something you don't enjoy?_

So many questions, just not enough answers...

One morning, John was opening the cafe by himself for the first time in the few years of his ownership. Amy had gone on maternity leave, after he had pestered her for a week about it. She constantly argued that she didn't want him working alone, but he brushed it aside and told her he wouldn't mind, as he could handle it all by himself. He'd have entertainment anyway. Amy had raised her eyebrows at that, but finally agreed, swearing that if he somehow managed to burn the place down, she'd never let him live it down.

His entertainment came in thirty minutes after opening, as the first person to walk in was none other than this I-drink-black-coffee-yet-I-don't-enjoy-it Clara, shaking in her boots. She looked more worn out than ever this morning, her hair in a messy bun and her cream scarf wrapped around her neck as tightly she could make it. She still looked absolutely gorgeous, something John still couldn't understand how she could. She didn't even seem bother to put any makeup on, unlike most of the days he had seen her.

"Good morning." He greeted as he watched her sigh in relief over the heater, "Freezing?"

"Quite. Your heater is a lifesaver." She walked over to the counter, "One small black coffee, please." He nodded silently, writing on the white coffee cup with a sharpie and taking her money. As usual, she walked over to the other side and waiting patiently as he prepared her drink.

"Amy isn't here?" She inquired as he put the lid on her drink. He handed the drink to her as he shook his head.

"No, unfortunately. She took maternity leave." Clara nodded in understanding, taking her place at her seat near the window. He watched as she took her first sip and the way her facial muscles contorted. He couldn't help but ask, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound rude, but why do you drink coffee?" The words left his lips before he could properly consider his actions, but he couldn't take it back now.

"Hmm?" She peered up at him, placing the cup down onto the table, her face still the very definition of uncomfortable over the cup of coffee. He shuffled in place, fidgeting with his fingers underneath the counter.

"You don't seem to enjoy it all that much. The coffee, I mean," He pointed out, "either you're trying to look mature, which you are failing to do, by the way, or you just want to torture yourself. I'm betting on the former, but the latter also seems possible." He examined her reaction carefully, hoping she didn't take it the wrong way.

"I don't ask you why you work at a coffee shop," she quipped back, sinking further into her comfortable seat.

John didn't expect that and was flustered for a moment, but settled on responding with, "Fair point." Another customer had come in and ordered an espresso. John could feel Clara's eyes on him, watching as he made he drink and handed it to the man. He met her gaze and she looked away, eyes glued back to her coffee cup.

"That was a bit insensitive of me earlier." Clara finally spoke up, "Your reasons of owning your shop is your concern." John didn't respond and they fell into a silence, besides the low hum of the heater.

"How about this, you answer my question and I answer yours? We could learn a bit about each other." John finally said to her and she thought about it for a moment as she continued to drink her torturous black coffee. John couldn't help but smile shyly at her face, as it always seemed to find a new expression to contort to with each sip.

"Alright. Well, I drink black coffee because I've never been explorative in my drinks. Other than tea, this is pretty much it. Black coffee also seems to perk me up better than tea, so I've been taking it in compensation for my current inability to sleep, since the classes I have to teach are pulling me thin. It's so hard to teach English to students that hardly seem to care unless it's a topic they're interested in, but even then, I have to do a lot of coaxing and convincing. Most of the time it works, but it leaves me so exhausted and oh goodness, I'm ranting, aren't I?" She caught herself and John watched as she blushed profusely.

"Not at all," he said, "You should see Amy on a bad day. She doesn't stop."

"Trust me, I know. Rory doesn't stop talking about it."

"You know Rory?" He inquired, deciding to leave the post and sit across from Clara. Nobody was here anyway, as it was way too early. Might was well take the opportunity.

"Mmhmm. I met him in secondary school. We've been in contact for a bit and he introduced me to Amy at one point." Clara explained. Ah, so that's why they seemed to know each other and do senseless small talk. John wished he knew that, but that's probably why Amy kept teasing him; she knew Clara, he didn't. "Okay, but what about you-," she looked to his name tag, "John. Why do you own a coffee shop?"

"Right," He might as well. "Well...it was my friend's, actually. She told me many years ago that she'd love to see me work in it. Told me I had the expertise and the moxie and promised it'd be fun. It's been a bumpy ride filled with all sorts of surprises, but with Amy, it's been wonderful."

Clara smiled softly and John couldn't help but feel the slight rush of blood to his cheeks as he watched her fond expression. The silence enveloped them warmly and they were staring at each other, analyzing one another's face. Clara then broke the silence, leaning back against her chair. He leaned forward subconsciously in response.

"You know, the only real reason I checked the coffee shop was because of your peculiar doors and the general aesthetic." Clara pointed out, throwing a thumb in the direction of the two double doors. Instead of the conventional glass doors most establishments went for, he chose a dark blue wood with a resemblance to a call box. It was a strange choice, he had to admit. The interior of Cosmic Delights was also an interesting choice, as it was also colored dark blue, if not even darker, but the ceiling and walls filled with stars and constellations that his friend's son had called, 'tumblr-esque.' He didn't quite understand it, but he hoped it was a good thing. Clara's voice brought him back to reality, "Really, I could see you through the windows, your chin was a intimidating. Didn't want to poke my eye out, but curiosity overcame my fear."

"The police box doors? Ah...that's more of just a personal touch. Same with the walls. I've always liked the universe." He scratched the back of his neck, then let the words sink in. "Hey! What is wrong with my chin?" His protests caused her to laugh and John swore it was one of the nicest things he had ever heard.

"Careful, don't lean in too close. I don't want to go to the hospital." She grinned, then glanced at her watch. She grimaced and stood, John following in suit. "I have to head to the school, I'll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?" She left quickly, leaving John to stand there and watch out the rain-stained window Clara walked across the street and went on her merry way.

The way his heart raced and how his palms started to sweat made him come to a conclusion of one simple fact, probably something he should have seen weeks ago, ever since he caught himself looking in her direction more than the healthy singular time. He wasn't concerned about the taste of the coffee. That was just a lie he was telling himself.

He straightened his posture, eyes wide. No, she was just a regular. He shouldn't be feeling this way. But the tell-tale signs were there.

 _He fancied her._


End file.
